


Tarnished Silver

by jessebee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Drama, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:26:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessebee/pseuds/jessebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  The lines between reality and dreams, past and present, love and hate are sometimes very, very fine.</p><p>UPDATE:  this story has been podficced! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarnished Silver

#

 

The Impala's heater was working overtime, but still couldn't quite chase the chill that had settled in Sam's chest.  He hummed along with the Beatles, a perk of being in the driver's seat, and narrowed his eyes at the traffic they were stuck in.  Why the cars were this heavy on a holiday night was beyond him, and if there'd been any other way across the river that wasn't miles out of the way....  But the diner was barely a block over from the far end of the bridge, if he looked to his left he could just see the lights, and his brother would be already there, with pie and coffee and no doubt bitching to Cas about them being – wait. 

 

What?  
  
If Dean was waiting for him, then who –

 

Gabriel.

 

Gabriel in the passenger seat, head tipped back and eyes closed, for all the world like he was taking a nap Sam was positive that he didn't need.  Warmth collided with the sticky cold under Sam's ribs because Gabriel didn't do this, never had, despite all of Sam's secret wishing.  "Why drive when you can fly?" Gabriel had said with a smirk, the one time Sam had kind of asked.  "Besides, this thing's way too slow."  Dean's response to that had been predictable, crude, and loud.  Sam pretty much thought that Gabriel had done it on purpose.  
  
But right now, something was _not_ right.  "Gabriel?"  
  
"Hmm?"  The archangel's voice thrummed low and lazy through the car, and Sam swallowed.  "Sam?"  Gabriel's eyes opened, warm and dark in the muted glow of the bridge lights and the Impala's dashboard.  Sam couldn't seem to find his voice.  
  
Whatever he might have said was lost forever in the gunshot screech as the world lurched around them.  No, _under_ them.  "What the -?"  Gabriel sat straight up next to him as Sam stared around at the shaking lights, the gleam of silver paint.  Another sound, the low whine of over-stressed metal and Sam's eyes went wide.  "The _bridge?!_ "  
  
He jerked around to look but nobody was going anywhere, or not inside of a car, anyway.  The bridge was packed solid, a few people were getting out now, the Impala shivered and dropped an inch or so and someone screamed, the Impala, oh God, Dean would never forgive him, wait - Gabriel.  Sam threw out a hand, caught Gabriel's arm, opened his mouth, and the world fell out from under him.  
  
Pain and a crack like thunder. The car jolted, rocked, the light went funny. Somebody was saying, yelling something that made no sense because Sam's head hurt, dammit, what - Something slooshed, the car tilted, and the Impala's engine died. 

 

Darkness, shot with dashboard glow and odd faint lights, shimmery, like they were shining through – "Water," Sam croaked, shock and adrenaline cutting through some of the pain in his head. "Holy shit, we're underwa –"

 

"Ding! You get the prize!" Gabriel snapped. "If I wanted to talk just to hear myself I'd've built another me! Get _out_ , Sam! _Out of the car!_ "

 

Good _Christ_ but Sam's head hurt. "Can't you –"

 

" _ **No**_ , idiot, you –"

 

The roof caved in and brought the icy river and Sam gasped with the shock of it, grabbed for air before the river washed it away. Something shoved him hard and he was out of the Impala sideways, sharpness of broken glass dragging at his side, current pulling at him, ghostly half-lights in the frigid pitch murk, air, he needed _up_ and _air_ but Gabriel, where was Gabriel? Needed to _breathe_ , but where, surface, but he couldn't, so cold – hands on his arm, pulling, shock tightening already struggling lungs – a face suddenly half-seen – Gabriel – kissing him, kissing – 

 

Air. Air, sweet _**air**_ , as Sam's freezing brain caught up and opened his mouth and let Gabriel push oxygen into his lungs.

 

 _Hypothermia_ , Sam's mind supplied helpfully, and he knew the clarity wouldn't last long. He locked one hand around Gabriel's wrist and kicked up hard, following the direction of the bubbles he felt across his face. Gabriel swam next to him, pulling, pushing, jerking as the cold started to win out over the adrenaline and Sam's strokes slowed and why wasn't Gabriel just popping out of this, dammit, Sam wanted an answer to that before he drowned and he was tired and cold and his side hurt and Gabriel _wouldn't_ _stop pulling_ at him and he wouldn't ever get that answer if he didn't reach – 

 

The surface. Sam dragged in the winter air in great sobbing whoops, gasping, trying to force numb limbs to keep his head _above_ the surface now that he'd finally found it.

 

"Shore," Gabriel said in his ear, and then he was in front of Sam, winding a hand into Sam's far-too-heavy shirt. "Swim for the shore, dammit, you've got to get out of the water!"

 

The frigid air sawed at Sam's brain like a dull knife. "Can't you – just – "

 

"You think I haven't tried?!" Gabriel looked a little wild around the eyes. "I'm blocked here, I don't want to meet what's doing it, and you are _not_ _going to die on me now!_ _**Move**_ _!_ "

 

It was the worst swim of Sam's life; he struggled for years before his foot finally touched bottom and his strength gave out, beaching him half out of the river, face down on the snowy bank. Hands hooked under his arms and yanked and Sam came to his hands and knees, one final act of pure will moving him the last few feet necessary to get completely out of the water. 

 

He collapsed in a tangle with Gabriel beneath him, face pressed into Gabriel's shoulder. He wasn't shivering, which he knew distantly that he ought to be worried about, but it all seemed so very far away. Gabriel was solid against him, around him, holding him to the only real thing there was, and there was something Sam had to do now, before he died. He turned his head and pressed his mouth to Gabriel's neck, wet skin somehow hot against his tongue, hot enough to burn. So that's what archangel tasted like, like – 

 

"Sam? Sammy."

 

Okay, just no. "'s Sam," Sam said, or thought he did.

 

"Sam." Fingers threaded into his hair and gripped, pulling his head up. Gabriel's eyes were wide. "What -?"

 

"Want you," Sam whispered, because there was no point in lying about it now. "Long time, last chance."

 

Gabriel's expression did something complicated that Sam didn't have a prayer of figuring out. " _Sam_ ," he said hoarsely, and kissed Sam hard on the mouth. He tasted like chocolate and – cognac? "I want you to do something for me."

 

"What?" Sam breathed, dizzy and tingling, like his brain had pins and needles.

 

"Wake up now." 

 

Sam stared at him, because he heard the words but they weren't making sense. Gabriel's hands tightened in Sam's hair and his eyes – were they glowing? "Samuel. _Wake up_."

 

Sam blinked, and blinked again, and twitched, and –

 

"Sam?"

 

Sam pried his eyes open at Dean's voice, and suddenly he was sucking in a great breath of air and shivering so hard his teeth clacked.

 

"About fucking _time_ , dude, you wouldn't wake up!"

 

Sam rolled his head and stared, saw the motel room, their stuff, the beds, Dean, Castiel. What he didn't see was – "G-bl." Through chattering teeth.

 

"What?" Dean's brows were practically a solid line, his jaw hard. "Easy, Sam, what –"

 

Sam got as deep a breath as he could, tried to force his mouth to cooperate. "Ga-bri-el."

 

Dean's jaw dropped – and the bed bounced as something dropped onto it from about three feet up. Gabriel landed next to Sam, limp, eyes closed, and soaking wet.

 

Sam's heart nearly stopped, but even as he fought to make his arm work, Gabriel's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright, his gaze locking onto Sam. "Oh, thank Dad," he muttered, and visibly relaxed. A snap and his clothes were dry, and he reached for Sam.

 

Warm. Oh God, Gabriel was _warmwarmwarm_ and Sam made his shaking limbs move somehow and curled himself around Gabriel's hips, practically into the archangel's lap, without hesitation or thought. Dean made a choking sound, but Sam couldn't care about that now. Dean and his issues were just going to have to wait.

 

Gabriel wrapped down over him, chest against Sam's shoulder and arm around Sam's back, heat spreading from every point of contact. He was whispering something, only occasionally in English, but it all sounded good anyway. "That, that was a dream?" Sam asked eventually, into the tiny space between them, when he could get the words out without stuttering. Much.

 

"Not exactly," Gabriel murmured, and his arm tightened.

 

#

 

"December 15th, 1967. The Silver Bridge between Pt. Pleasant, W.V. and Kanauga, Ohio collapsed into the Ohio River. Killed 46 people, and they never found two of them." Dean looked up from the laptop. "Cause of failure: a single eyebar with an itty bitty shitty little crack that nobody could even have seen."

 

"For want of a nail," Sam murmured. He was propped against the headboard of "his" bed, hands wrapped around a cup of seriously awesome veggie beef soup that never got cold, no matter how long he held onto it. "And before that they had all the Mothman sightings, like maybe something was trying to warn them. So what I dreamed, that was, – what? A kind of giant death echo of the land?"

 

"Of a sort," Castiel said.

 

Gabriel nodded from where he sat cross-legged on the bed, in the vicinity of Sam's knees. "But not the land. It's the echo of the bridge."

 

"The bridge." Dean sounded skeptical, not that Sam could blame him. "Dude, death echoes are generated from people dying, living things dying. The bridge wasn't alive." Gabriel tilted his head, an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth going up, and suddenly it all clicked in Sam's brain.

 

Sam set his soup down on the nightstand before he spilled it. "That's it, isn't it? The Mothman, the way the witnesses described it, as this grey creature with huge wings and red eyes and a screechy voice. It was _the_ _bridge itself_ , trying to warn them that something was wrong. Somehow, that bridge had a spirit." 

 

Dean's eyebrows pulled together. "How the hell does a bridge get a spirit? As itself, and not as people who died there? Oh, man, no," he said as his face kind of smoothed and became thunderous at the same time. "No, don't tell me somebody –"

 

"No," Castiel said calmly, and Dean looked over at him. "There was no human sacrifice made when the bridge was built, as was done in the past by some cultures to 'anchor' a structure." 

 

Dean's eyebrows asked the next question, but it was Gabriel who answered. "Blood sacrifice like that leaves a trace. Fingerprints, you could say." He waggled his own fingers in the air. "No, this felt more like an _animus_ , or a _genius loci_."

 

"But a _genius loci_ would be something older, wouldn't it?" Sam questioned, fascinated. "Something that represented the land, or the river?" One of Gabriel's hands had landed on Sam's leg. Sam wasn't going to point that out, because Gabriel might move it.

 

"It probably was, originally." Gabriel looked at him. "Then you humans built the bridge, and there was somebody doing major spellwork during the construction, that's for sure. Did they mean to tie into the _genius loci_ ? Who knows, but it did become part of the land and the river, and the land and the river returned the favor. Stir all that together and you've got a seriously powerful sense of place – an _animus_ – and there's your spirit."

 

"And my dream got tangled up in its echo."

 

"And dragged me along for the ride, and wasn't _that_ fun?" Gabriel said sourly, but Sam heard something else beneath it. Something nervous. Because yeah, Gabriel _had_ been dragged along for the ride. How strong was this thing?

 

"So." Dean leaned his elbows on the table. "Question is, how do we gank it?"

 

Sam stared at him. "Gank it?"

 

Dean stared back. "It nearly killed you, Sam; how many other people have gotten caught? Maybe it ain't evil, but it's dangerous. We gotta get rid of it."

 

"Dean, it's a _bridge_. I don't think we can just dig up its old girlfriend to say "I love you, move on now.""

 

"But we _can_ talk to it, I believe," Castiel said in his serious fashion. "If we summon it, we may convince it to disperse."

 

"Summon an inanimate object." Dean's eyebrows considered this.

 

"Or the spirit of one. Okay. But talk to it? In what? I don't speak 'bridge,' Cas," Sam said.

 

"You do not, no," Castiel said. But he was looking at Gabriel.

 

"Castiel," Gabriel said, his expression turning dangerous. Castiel stared back, apparently not at all cowed by his brother's stare, and a whole conversation ensued in tilted heads, raised chins and narrowed eyes.

 

"Uh, guys?" Dean finally prompted, impatiently.

 

Gabriel huffed, and blew out a long, unnecessary breath. "Fine." But he couldn't have sounded less happy, and his fingers twitched. 

 

 _Don't go_. Sam moved without thinking, laying a hand on Gabriel's arm. Gabriel's fingers stilled. "You speak 'bridge,' huh?" Sam asked.

 

"We speak all languages," Castiel said, serenely refusing to be set on fire by the power of Gabriel's glare.

 

#

 

For sheer FML-ery, nothing was going to beat having an archangel along on a fact-finding tour, a snarky, cranky, didn't-want-to-be-there archangel who nevertheless _would not go away_. Any more of this and Sam was going to smite something. Quite possibly Gabriel, phenomenal cosmic powers or not. 

 

"This was where the bridge approach started," he said, looking down at the simple memorial there in quiet downtown Pt. Pleasant, at Main and Sixth, then out at the river in the distance. "The names of the victims are etched on the bricks here."

 

"Where they can get stepped on, while the names of the politicians are on the plaque." Gabriel snorted. "Typical. Human government at its finest."

 

While Sam couldn't much disagree with that, he'd had just fucking enough of this shit, thanks. "Don't think your crowd's doing a bang-up job either," he said, his jaw tight. "Misleading, lying, intimidation, a little out-and-out torture, yeah, that's a fine example."

 

In the corner of his eyes, Sam saw Gabriel's shoulders go tight. "Don't even think about painting me with that brush, Winchester," Gabriel hissed.

 

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I'm not, because youweren'tthere when they made those decisions, were you? That's right – because you were down here, _hiding_. And _killing my brother_."

 

A sharp breath, and Sam was abruptly alone, the whisper of wings vanishing in the light breeze. 

 

Fuck.

 

So maybe the archangel wasn't the only cranky one today.

 

Sam tipped his head back and sighed, long and deep, crossing his arms and letting his chin drop to his chest. Gabriel had mojoed the two of them here to West Virginia because Sam didn't mind travelling by AngelAir, which left Dean and Castiel the car to check things out on the Ohio side. He wouldn't mind the walk back across the river too much either, the new Silver Bridge wasn't all that long and the exercise might finally chase off the last of his chills. 

 

No, what bugged him was the reason _why_ he was irritable, that thing he wasn't thinking about, that made him snap back, made him bite to _hurt_ , all akimbo from their usual sharp banter.

 

But dammit, Gabriel had started it.

 

 _Not in your dream, he didn't_ , Sam's conscience whispered. _That was all you_.

 

Yeah, "fuck" about covered it.

 

Sam heaved another sigh. With a last look around, he stepped out of the memorial half-circle and headed down toward the river. 

 

Close to the shore stood a simple, dignified white pillar, a plaque at its top saying merely that here once stood the Silver Bridge, and here it had fallen. Sam leaned back against it for a while and looked out over the river, imagination painting a ghostly structure over him. Memory conjured the aluminum-painted steel, and the razor-edged bite of the water. He shivered.

 

The ice-fire of Gabriel's mouth against his, pushing life into him. The wet-cold, hotter-than-skin warmth of Gabriel's throat under Sam's lips. A taste he couldn't stop remembering. A taste he could wish he'd never had, because he'd never have it again. Sam had spilled his deepest secret and Gabriel had done…nothing.

 

Maybe the archangel hadn't been the crankier one at all.

 

Fuck fuck _fuck_.

 

Sam heaved himself upright and started back up the hill, rubbing briefly where the pillar had left a cold dent in his ass. Warmth would be good right now. He pulled out his phone and thumbed up his brother's number. Dean had the car, so he could come to Sam.

 

There had to a restaurant somewhere close by, because people had the urge to contemplate disaster zones by sitting and drinking coffee and staring at them. Human nature.

 

#

 

 

"So, if it's gonna take some space to do this, the Ohio side is best." Dean paused to aim a smile up at the waitress who refilled his coffee cup and won a smile in return, proving the Winchester charm still to be in full force. "Lots less buildings and stuff," he went on as she moved way. "It's basically open field right down to the river."

 

"So, no cover really," Sam said. He kept both hands wrapped around his own cup, recently filled for the third time, and wondered absently if the heat was ever going to really sink in.

 

"Not much, few trees, but it's pretty much wide open. Less chance of getting civilians hurt." Dean took a big sip of his fresh, hot beverage – this place made it the way he liked it.

 

"Hmm. Well, this side's got a museum and statue and stuff."

 

"Of the bridge?"

 

"Of the Mothman. Traffic flow through here dried up when the bridge went down, and never really recovered. So they made a business out of the sightings. Or tried to." Sam's brow wrinkled. "Where's Cas?"

 

"Said he was gonna look around. Where's Gabriel?" Dean asked, raising his own eyebrow.

 

 _I wish I knew_. "Around," Sam said, and climbed to his feet, fishing for his wallet.

 

"Trouble in paradise already, huh?"

 

"What?"

 

"Hey, you two were pretty chummy last night. Figured you'd be picking out rings today, the way you were hanging onto him there."

 

Dean's variety of teasing was _not_ what Sam needed at the moment. "Bite me."

 

Dean chuckled, not nicely, and Sam spent a moment or two imagining Dean's epic face if he ever found out Sam's real feelings on the whole thing.

 

#

 

The museum was two blocks up, a raggedly genteel thing in a storefront that seemed a little embarrassed at what it had become. It seemed to be about one-third newspaper clippings, one-third t-shirts, and one-third props from the Richard Gere movie, but they found Castiel inside, standing in front of a case of sketches. All were black and whites, little more than an arch of crude wings and a suggestion of a body, except where some had small, red eyes.

 

"Huh. Not exactly Rembrandts, were they?" Dean leaned in to look, putting himself deep into Castiel's space without a second thought. Castiel didn't twitch. Behind them, Sam rolled his eyes. If those two weren't fucking yet, they should be.

 

"Police drawing usually aren't, Dean," Sam said. "Particularly when they probably didn't believe the witnesses anyway." 

 

Dean's snort clearly said 'teach your grandmother to suck eggs, why don't you.' But Castiel was still, except for a slow tilt of his head. Sam thought he knew that tilt. "Cas?"

 

There was a fine line drawn between the angel's brows when Cas turned his head. "I need to speak with Gabriel."

 

 _Yeah, me too_ , Sam thought unhappily and then wanted to facepalm as Castiel's always-intense blue gaze sharpened. "He is close by," was all Cas said, though, and moved toward the museum door, in the human fashion for once. 

 

Dean looked after him, then over at Sam, and raised his eyebrows in question. Sam just shrugged, wearing "unconcerned" for all he was worth. The twitch of Dean's mouth said he wasn't believing it.

 

They found both angels close by indeed, across the street and catty-corner to the museum. Castiel stood in front of the statue that crouched there on its cement pedestal, the tops of its tattered wings a good fifteen feet high. A human-shaped body, clawed hands and nightmare face complete with wide red glass eyes finished the picture. The fitful winter sun had emerged from the cloud cover, and the statue's stainless steel skin was blindingly shiny in the light. Gabriel was around the other side of it, sitting on one of the benches under the trees maybe ten feet away.

 

Dean grinned as they came up on it. "That's – rather impressive, man," he said, circling a little to right to peer up at the sides of the creature. 

 

Sam grimaced. "At least they didn't make the eyes light up, too."

 

"Only 'cause they ran out of money, website said, which is too bad 'cause glowing red eyes, that'd been cool."

 

"Dean."

 

"No, seriously, Sam, this here, the welds, and the way he shaped the steel?" Dean had a hand on the sculpture's leg. "This is really good metalwork. Cas, take a look at this –"

 

Sam left Dean expounding on the joys of shiny curved metal to a possibly bemused Castiel, and made his way over to where Gabriel sat kicked back in the sunshine, eating something that looked a lot like a Charleston Chew. He dropped himself on the bench perpendicular to Gabriel's, and wondered what he could say that wouldn't sound either douchey or like he was a giant girl. Probably wasn't anything, though, so he might as well get it over with. "So. Find out anything we can use, maybe, to talk to this thing?"

 

"Oh, _I'm_ sorry," Gabriel said slowly and elaborately. "I had understood that my assistance wasn't _needed_."

 

Sam hung his head and bit back the urge to groan. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It was a – I shouldn't have said that, not like that."

 

Silence, punctuated by a few birds and the low rumble of Dean's voice. Then Gabriel sighed. Sam looked over at him. The archangel's head was back and he was staring off at something, the sun, perhaps. "Well, it's not like you've cornered the market on being a jackass, or anything."

 

Sam's mouth twitched. "No, I haven't."

 

Gabriel's head turned. One eyebrow was up, and his hair gleamed like antique gold in the sunlight. Sam's fingers itched and his throat went dry.

 

Why him? Everyone, _anyone_ in the world Sam might have fallen for – but no: it had to be a short, mouthy, capricious archangel.

 

Gabriel did that head turn and tilt thing he had, looking at Sam from under his eyebrows, his expression going questioning –

 

"So." Sam jerked as Dean sat down on the bench. Castiel stood in front of them, and his shadow cut the ground between Gabriel and Sam.

 

Dean stared past Sam at Gabriel, face full of that set intensity that was about as friendly as Dean/archangel relations had yet achieved. "Cas thinks you might have somethin' on this."

 

Gabriel looked away, face smoothing over, and Sam groaned silently. _Thanks a fucking lot, Dean._ "I might," Gabriel said.

 

Dean put a hand out, a mocking beckoning. "And?"

 

"And I'll need to shop for supplies for the party circle tonight and my, my, just look at the time." Gabriel popped to his feet, all sudden swirl of energy. "Castiel, you get the honor of carrying the bags."

 

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean stood up too, a hand out toward Castiel as if that would stop the angel leaving. "An explanation'd be nice here."

 

Gabriel's smile was charmingly, dangerously false, the one that Sam had hated for Tuesdays unending. "It would be nice, wouldn't it?" He pointed a finger at Dean. "Empty field. Ohio side. Hour before sunset. Bring the salt. And the ice – I like my margaritas on the rocks." 

 

One loud snap, and Sam and Dean were the only ones there.

 

"Fuck," Dean hissed. He looked down at Sam.

 

Best defense was a good offense, in Sam's book. "Nice job, bro. No intel _and_ no angels. I like how you operate."

 

Dean, however, picked the worst possible moment to get perceptive. "What's going on, Sam?"

 

"You wanna narrow that down?"

 

"Between you and Gabriel."

 

Sam rolled to his feet, but Dean just stood there, arms folded across his chest. Sam loomed. Dean didn't budge. "Nothing," Sam said, and the truth of it ached. "Not a God-damned thing."

 

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I'm getting' that."

 

#

 

The uneasy skies delivered on their threat later that evening, and the ground was dusted with snow by the time they arrived. Dean parked the Impala behind the last of the trees and he and Sam made their way down toward the riverbank.

 

"Wonder what we're gonna get with this," Sam said, more to himself than to Dean.

 

Dean snorted and readjusted one of the two bags of salt he had slung over his shoulders. "With Gabriel? Something really fuckin' showy."

 

"'Bout time, boys," Gabriel said, his voice carrying easily although Sam didn't think he'd raised it. "We were feeling lonely down here."

 

"Fuck you," Dean said matter-of-factly. "You said an hour before sunset, yeah? I can tell time, even if you can't. So let's get this party started."

 

"Dean," Castiel said, and Sam watched his brother's gaze shift immediately to Castiel, like iron to a magnet. "I need you to start laying salt here, following this pattern…."

 

Sam set his own two bags of salt on the ground and watched, Castiel walking lines and circles that had already been cleared of snow, Dean laying down salt as directed. He took a fortifying breath and stepped over to Gabriel, who was simply watching as well and for once, not eating. Sam pulled his olive branch, disguised as a small colorful package, out of his pocket. "Twix?"

 

Gabriel looked at the bright foil and then at Sam, his expression something Sam might almost have called surprise. Which it might be, because Sam had never offered him candy before. "Thank you," he said slowly, and put out his hand. 

 

Sam laid the package in it, his fingers brushing Gabriel's palm. Then he jammed both hands into his coat pockets and dragged his eyes back to his brother's and Castiel's progress. His fingertips tingled, and he slid his thumb over them, safe from view. "That's a really damn big circle."

 

"Big fish needs a really damn big net. Open your mouth."

 

"Huh?" Sam turned, lips parting, only to have a Twix bar stuck between them. "Uhm, thanks," he said after he'd rescued it and bitten off an end. Maybe his apology had been accepted, or they'd called a truce, at least. He hoped so. "So, you're doing what – supervising?"

 

"My part's done, for now," Gabriel said, around a mouthful of chocolate. "Castiel's always been a whiz at spell mechanics, plus he's more – in practice."

 

Ouch. "What did you do? And what are we fishing for, anyway?"

 

Gabriel pulled a face and Sam's heart dropped a little. God, he always had to ask one more question, didn't he?

 

But Gabriel answered him. "Oh, made up a particular little blend of seventy herbs and spices that Castiel's laying down after Dean-o salts the lines. Plus a touch of oil and a little extra polish of my own."

 

Sam half-smiled. "What, the archangel special?"

 

Gabriel shrugged. "A smidge of angel, a dash of pagan. Insurance never hurts."

 

Insurance? "Gabriel…what _is_ this thing?"

 

Gabriel's eyes narrowed, still staring down at Dean and Castiel. "Something old, something new, something borrowed…. Something big enough to take no chances with. One dance through your head was enough." A sudden, mocking smile. "Unless of course I'm invited back, but you'll have to get better party favors."

 

"Yeah, about that." Shit, how did he say this? "The whole thing…it shook some stuff loose, and I said –"

 

"Sam, stop." Gabriel's voice was low and even and Sam couldn't read it at all. "Don't. Two things that you humans never mean: the stuff you say when you're coming or you're dying, or when you _think_ you're dying. The whole death-bed confessions thing? Is a myth, trust me."

 

 _Okay, you know what? No. Enough._ _Man the fuck_ _ **up**_ _, Samuel_. "That's just it – it wasn't, it's not. A myth, I mean."

 

Gabriel went utterly still.

 

"Or mine wasn't, anyway. I meant every damn word of it, and I'm – sorry if that makes you uncomfortable and I won't say another word about it." Sam took a deep breath, and looked down at his boots. "But there should be one person in my life besides Dean who I'm not lying to. About shit that really matters."

 

" _Sam_?"

 

Sam set his jaw and looked up. Gabriel was staring at him, mouth open, looking like somebody'd just slammed him in the back of a head with a –

 

"Hey, _guys! Sam!_ Now that we've done most of the hard work, you and the Candyman wanna get your asses in gear so we can finish this thing and light it up?"

 

Gabriel blinked, and blinked again. "Candyman? _Really_?" he said, still looking at Sam. "Is _that_ all the better he can do?"

 

The indignant tone was just too much. Sam snickered, then put his head down and laughed out loud.

 

#

 

"Dean, you will hold the north point, and Sam, the south," Castiel said. "I will hold the east."

 

"Aaand I'll take the west, then. Big shocker there," Gabriel said as he strolled past Sam and stopped at the west edge of the circle, hands in his pockets and legs apart, his weight set. 

 

Balanced and ready. It was – kinda hot.

 

The summoning circle looked like a devil's trap but not, with additions Sam had no clue about.

 

"Don't move from the points before the summoning completes, and not after that, either, if you can help it." Castiel walked around the perimeter of the circle, inspecting the lines of salt and "special mix," looking for flaws probably only he could see. The angel's dark hair blended with the coming night, leaving the patch of shirt and swirl of coat. "The power must remain balanced for the trap to work as it should."

 

"We move, it makes weak spots, I'm guessing?" Dean said. 

 

"Correct." Castiel graced him with an honest-to-God smile, and Dean's whole face shifted.

 

Sam huffed softly. God, he wished they'd just admit the big gay love already and get on with things. Dean was so gone it wasn't funny, and Cas – Sam was pretty sure Cas was too. Or as much as an angel could be. His gaze slid, unbidden, to find Gabriel.

 

Who was watching their brothers with a soft look, until he seemed to feel Sam's gaze and looked dead back at Sam, amber eyes zeroing in, intent in the last of the fading light.

 

Sam's mouth went dry.

 

"Gabriel."

 

"Ready, bro," Gabriel said, still looking at Sam. "Fire it up. And remember, kids, don't leave your corners 'till the time-out's finished."

 

Sam pulled a face at him because really, he got the message already. 

 

Castiel's voice rose from Sam's right side, chanting in what might be Enochian but sounded even weirder. Sam listened hard as it went on, trying to catch it but there were words, sounds that dipped and rose almost out of range. Not high or low, but _sideways_ , like things not coming from a human throat. Things that a human couldn't pronounce.

 

Another voice joined in and Sam looked left to see Gabriel's mouth moving now, hands out of his pockets as he spoke, and the sounds buzzed and hovered like things alive, and the air in the circle was thickening, thickening, a smoky swirl like some distant grave-fire, a whiff of something metallic –

 

COLD.

 

Freezing bitter cold that stops Sam's heart in his chest and he's underwater, he's freezing, he's dying and he can't move, no more than a weak thrash and he's alone, nothing but ice and ghost lights below him and no angel beside him this time he'd never get to tell Gabriel, _Gabriel_ , _GABRIEL_ –

 

_**SAM** _

 

Gabriel's voice.

 

A punch to his chest the last of his air _gone_ –

 

Falling. The landing jarring him hard, stealing his breath and stinging his hands, cold and wet against his skin –

 

_WOOSH_

 

Sam gasped in air and blinked as the world came back into focus, sharp and cold. Or not sharp, because the fire was in the way – the fuck?

 

" _Sam_!" 

 

His brother's panicked voice penetrated and Sam found his own. "Yeah, Dean, I'm good." He shook his head hard and rolled to his knees, staring – 

 

"Don't move out of the fire circle, Sam." Castiel said from Sam's right. "It's all that's protecting you."

 

Protecting him from what, Sam didn't have to ask.

 

Gray and shifting and really fucking damn _big_ it was, writhing in the middle of the summoning circle. What might be wings shifted and kind of – flowed, and Sam squinted. It was like trying to look at something made of smoke and mirrors, like it didn't quite exist in this plane and yet it did, Sam felt the _presence_ pouring off it like liquid tar and a threatening storm, pressing in around the fire circle. Like waiting for a bomb to explode, and Castiel had a hand on Dean who had moved from his spot, who was where he shouldn't be, the angel holding him back but Gabriel, where was – "Gabriel!"

 

Gabriel stood calmly to Sam's left, braced and ramrod straight, his right hand reached out in Sam's direction. He was staring up at the thing they'd summoned, looking about as concerned as if contemplating a calm walk on a spring day.

 

"Stay put, Sam." Gabriel's voice was eerily calm. "And you might want to cover your ears."

 

The screeching leaked around Sam's palms and sent an actual shudder down his spine, like the universe's worst case of nails on a blackboard. Hideous and loud; no wonder the witnesses back in the 1960s had described the sound as awful. But familiar too, queasily so, and Sam grimaced, trying to place –

 

Gabriel opened his mouth.

 

The archangel's voice boomed around the clearing, and Sam was vaguely surprised the distant trees weren't bending with the force of it. Enochian again, maybe, he could maybe make out some few words in the din, but like before they twisted in his head, syllables he couldn't, wasn't, shouldn't be capable of hearing – 

 

Another screech from the thing, louder still, and Sam saw Dean wince and actually stagger, hands shoved hard against his ears, held upright by Castiel's grip on his arm. Sam squinted and then took a helpless step backward, heart racing as the thing seemed to grow, wings flaring up and out, mantling wide and curving at the tips where they hit the walls of the circle, the form at the center coalescing into something almost human, glowing from dark to a steel-like shine, light fouled a sick green-gray like a tornadic storm –

 

"Really?" Gabriel's voice was rock-steady. Mocking. Dangerous as a coiled snake as he simply stood there looking up at it, unmoving. "You really want to have a big dick contest? _With_ _me_?"

 

Sam swallowed.

 

"Close your eyes, kids," Gabriel said. "It's about to get bright."

 

Sam could never say for sure afterword exactly _what_ he saw then, _if_ he saw, or if it was just his human brain trying to make sense of the unknowable. Giant wings erupted from the air around Gabriel, filling the clearing with near-blinding light, copper-gold-white, like looking into the sun. Impressions of feathers constructed of lighting and glory, a sonic-boom of power literally shaking the ground as something that didn't, shouldn't, _could not exist_ on this plane suddenly, irrefutably _did_. And in the center of it all, a glimpse of _Gabriel_ , a tiny taste of the enormity barely contained within a thin human envelope.

 

Sound and light ramping up to scream like the world ending, so loud Sam couldn't breath for the pressure on his chest –

 

And silence.

 

Sam gasped in air and blinked madly. The only sounds now were Dean's breath and his own, the only light that of the fire circle as it burned lower. "Gabriel?"

 

The archangel stood precisely where he'd been, gaze fixed on the now scorched and blasted circle of earth where the summoning circle had been. "All gone," he said in a slow, lilting sing-song, but his voice was rough.

 

"What the everlovin' fuck _was_ that?" Dean demanded hoarsely, coming up as close to Sam as the dying fire circle allowed.

 

"That," Castiel said quietly, "was a fallen angel."

 

#

 

"So," Dean said after they'd gotten back on the road. The Impala's heater was just starting to pump out warm air and Sam was pathetically grateful for it. "How the hell does an angel wind up tied to a bridge in bumfuck West Virginia?"

 

Castiel made a noise that had it come from anybody else, Sam would have called it a sigh. "You're familiar with the stories of the Grigori?"

 

"From Enoch? Sure." Dean shrugged, but Sam craned around to stare at the angel – the only angel – in the back seat.

 

"That was a _Watcher_? But I thought they all fell, like _all_ the way down."

 

"A demon, then," Dean said, eyeing Castiel in the rearview mirror.

 

"No," Castiel said, meeting Dean's gaze. "Enoch got a lot of it right, but there were things he was directed to – obscure. There wasn't a – blanket punishment, as you might say, for all the Watchers. The Lord is fierce but just, always. The punishments were made according to the crimes."

 

There was silence for a minute. Sam caught Dean's eye for a moment, then looked back at Castiel. "So what did that guy do?"

 

Castiel's gaze shifted to whatever fascinating thing there was to be seen out the Impala's windshield. "Nahaliel – appreciated this world, this earth, too much. More than our Father intended. Enough that even though he had no interest in binding with the daughters of men, as did so many of the Grigori, he nonetheless stayed as they did. It was in his own interest that none of them be caught."

 

"So – Watcher for the Watchers, huh?" A corner of Dean's mouth cranked up. "Bet that didn't work real well."

 

"In the end, it did not," Castiel agreed. "As he had so enjoyed the world and didn't wish to leave it, God decided that he would not. Nahaliel was stripped of grace and bound into the fabric of earth, cut off from Heaven and Host, forever to feel the echoes of God's grace in Creation but never again to touch it. A captive of his own desire."

 

Sam's brow wrinkled. "So he's been bound to the land all this time?"

 

Castiel nodded. "Bound and mute, losing himself in the fabric of earth and water…."

 

"Until they built the Silver Bridge, summoned supernatural protection for it…." Sam said.

 

"And got a grounded angel," Dean finished. 

 

Castiel nodded again. "It seems that the bridge gave Nahaliel something of coherence again, something to – reform himself around. A fixed point."

 

"So when the bridge started to fail, of course he didn't want to lose his anchor," Sam mused. "Enter the Mothman. It makes sense." 

 

"Yeah, well," and Sam's chest tightened because here it came, "what doesn't make sense to me is – why Sam?" Dean asked. "We were both asleep, so why him and not me?"

 

"Because the gate in his fence was wide open and the guard dog was sleeping."

 

That the car only jerked a little bespoke just how much Dean was getting used to random angels popping in. "The hell'd you just say?" he snapped, glaring at the sudden Gabriel in the rearview mirror.

 

"Because he's more open to shit like that, obviously," Gabriel snapped back.

 

Dean's mouth thinned. "Because of the demon blood."

 

"Because he's _him_ , you moron! You think Azazel didn't know _exactly_ what the fuck he was doing when he picked your brother? Three drops of infernal plasma didn't turn Sam gifted, it just kinked up what was already there!"

 

Sam's breath caught.

 

"We need to chat, Sam. _Now_ ," Gabriel said, and snapped his fingers.

 

" _Whoa_!" 

 

Okay, Sam was getting used to being yanked through reality, but going from sitting at 45mph to sitting dead still on an overstuffed sofa in what looked like somebody's expensive "rustic" cabin, complete with roaring fire? "Gabriel, what the hell?"

 

Gabriel was perched sideways on the other end of the couch, posture stiff and gaze intent. "Did you mean it, Sam?"

 

Mean what? "Gabriel –"

 

"What you said, at the circle. _Did you mean it?_ "

 

Realization flushed Sam cold and then fiery hot, sparking the adrenalin left over from the ritual and running it in a shuddering rush up his spine. "Yes." He took a breath. "Yes, I meant it. I want you."

 

Gabriel's eyes were molten. "You shouldn't," he said nakedly.

 

And that, weirdly, sealed the deal. "I know," Sam said, nodding, and reached for him.

 

Gabriel met him halfway.

 

#

 

"So, why _was_ it me?"' Sam asked, much later. "Okay, apparently I'm susceptible but that can't have happened to every sensitive to come through the area, the death records just aren't there."

 

Gabriel made a face around the strawberry he'd just popped into his mouth. "Wrong place, wrong time, wrong brain. You just happened to be in the way."

 

Sam narrowed his eyes, because yes – and no. "And?"

 

Gabriel looked at him, then huffed and rolled his eyes, and sank back down next to Sam on the obscene pile of pillows at the head of the bed. "And – you were in the way."

 

Fences. Gates? Fallen angels and guard dogs –

 

Sam dug his elbow into the pillow mountain and hitched himself up with a jerk. "It wasn't me at all that first time, was it? It was _you_." 

 

Gabriel closed his eyes. 

 

"You've been _riding my dreams_. But something happened that night, didn't it; you did something different, and it caught you with your pants down and trapped you in my head – I was just the medium, wasn't I?" Sam didn't know what he was feeling. "It was after _you_."

 

Gabriel was still for a minute, then the bowl on his chest rose and fell again as he sighed. "I meant exactly what I said, Sam. You're a wide open, beautiful field with barely one rickety-ass fence around it. I've been making sure that nothing gets close enough to plant any weeds, that's all."

 

"So you've been shielding my dreams. Why?"

 

Amber eyes snapped open and Gabriel glared at him. "You are _not_ seriously asking me this _now_?" He waved a hand that took in the room, the bed, their own very naked selves.

 

Oh.

 

Yeah, okay, dumb question. Sam's ire faded a bit. He leaned in and offered a kiss in apology, startling a little as Gabriel bit his lower lip hard and then soothed it with his tongue. "Idiot."

 

Sam kissed him some more, then pulled slowly away, pilfering a strawberry on the way. "Why was it after you?"

 

Gabriel's expression shifted from irked to a kind of distant, ancient sadness. "Because I was the one who delivered Dad's punishment." He pursed his mouth. "What you saw there wasn't really Nahaliel, or wasn't much of him, anyway. The echo of a remnant, just enough to recognize me and hurt you because of it."

 

Sam's eyebrows wrinkled. "How did he recognize you at all? Your whole witness protection thing –"

 

"Doesn't work as well if I'm – relaxed. And your brain is pretty damned comfortable."

 

That was possibly the weirdest, most awesome compliment Sam had ever gotten. 

 

He stole another strawberry and then scooted closer, moving the bowl onto the mattress and spreading his fingers into the soft hair on Gabriel's chest. "So I dreamed, and you were asleep at the wheel – or in the shotgun seat, anyway – "

 

Gabriel's mouth quirked.

 

"And that let him hijack me and trap you in for the ride. Pretty powerful dream."

 

"That much human trauma in a tight little space, backed up with even a trickle of grace? Makes a pretty powerful package."

 

"And if you hadn't been able to wake me up?"

 

Gabriel didn't say a word, but his hand came up to cover Sam's where it lay against his chest. 

 

Something in Sam went ugly and cold. _He_ had been just freezing, shivering, when he woke up, but he'd also been dry and in bed, exactly where he'd gone to sleep.

 

Gabriel had appeared completely soaking wet.

 

Sam tangled their fingers together and squeezed. Gabriel squeezed back.

 

"Why," Sam asked after a minute or two, when he was sure his voice would hold, "didn't you just tell us what we were up against?"

 

Gabriel shrugged. "And have the humans flip their shit when they realize the angels are basically going to use the baby brother for bait to trap one of their own? That would have gone over well."

 

But Sam had his number now, and it went a long way toward settling his own irritation at being manipulated yet again. "Dean's going to be more pissed that you used us again, you and Cas both. But I was never really in danger, was I, in that holy oil circle you set up and hid? Y _ou_ were the real bait, Gabriel, not me. I was just icing."

 

Gabriel moved, and then Sam was on his back with an archangel across his chest, golden eyes glowing with a thousand things unsaid. "But the icing's my most favorite part, Sambo," Gabriel said, his voice laced with something that thrummed in Sam's bones. He kissed Sam hard, fingers tangling into Sam's hair. His mouth still tasted like chocolate and cognac, and a faint, human tang of salt. "My _most_ favorite part. And I don't share."

 

 

 

_Fin_

 

 

\-------------------------------

 

Information on the tragedy of the Silver Bridge collapse and the Mothman sightings can be found here: http://www.mothmen.us/mothman-images_photo-gallery.htm)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Tarnished Silver  
> Author: jesse  
> Rating: R  
> Genre: Angst, drama, case!fic, slash and preslash, au, fixit!fic, future!fic  
> Pairing: Sam/Gabriel, background hints at pre-Dean/Castiel  
> Spoilers: Everything through S5, to be safe  
> Warnings: See note below  
> Disclaimer: Not mine. It's Kripke's sandbox, I only play and run away.  
> Word Count: ~7700
> 
> Summary: The lines between reality and dreams, past and present, love and hate are sometimes very, very fine.
> 
> Note: This story references a real event, but circumstances and situations and later movie representations have been twisted a bit for the purposes of drama and surprise. No disrespect is meant to persons who have a connection to actual events, nor is light being made of the tragedy which occurred. Link at the end of the story. This story would have been far, far poorer if not for the efforts of morganoconner and samjohnsson; I can't thank you guys enough.
> 
> UPDATE: This story has been podficced! :D http://www.audiofic.jinjurly.com/category/jessebeeauthor


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